“If you’re starting over, why write code?” Mitch opened his hands, not caring when they shook. “What about doing something different, something that makes you happy? Or are you giving up everything that makes you smile?”
The smooth skin on her cheeks turned pale. She took a stumbling step away from the fireplace. “Writing code is the only thing I know.”
“No, it’s not. You know exactly what to do when a camera is in your hands. Ever since you left, people from town have showed me the pictures you took of them, of their kids, of the mountains. Every photograph was perfect.” Mitch held her gaze, desperate to get her to see what she refused to acknowledge. “You’re an artist. Like me.”
She froze, looking at him with big, wide eyes.
A part of him thought he probably wore the same stunned you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look every time she’d called him an artist. Every time she’d tried to get him to see what he refused to admit. The center of his chest ached, every molecule inside him pulling toward her like steel to a magnet. He felt his voice dip, low and raspy with want. “You’re just like me, honey.”
Simon Davis stormed into the living room, gripping a yellow sheet of paper.
Cecelia followed, wearing a tight, white-lipped expression.
“I just found your note.” Simon stopped beside the couch and waved the paper in the air. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
Jaye dragged her gaze to her father and shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t joke about resigning.”
“Fine. You’re free to leave now.” Her father wadded up the paper in his fist. “I always knew you weren’t cut out to run the business. We don’t need you.”
The sparkle drained from her eyes.
Damn it all, he wouldn’t let Simon crush her like some worthless gnat. Mitch rushed to get to her and slammed his leg against the hearth. A wicked twinge zipped up his calf but he ignored the pain and grabbed her arm. The feel of her arrowed a sharp pierce of longing into his chest, more painful than the bruise forming on his leg. “I need you. I need you more than anything. Ever since you left, I can’t function. I’ve dropped five pieces of glass in the past two days. I can’t hold on to anything if I can’t hold you.”
She blinked at him and frowned.
Her blank gaze looked like she could hardly hear anything after her father’s cruel dismissal and Mitch’s emotions flared, sparked by a bone-deep craving. He sank to one knee in front of her, ready to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt he possessed the passionate, volatile soul of an artist. He dug a hand into his pocket and held up a platinum ring mounted with a one-carat diamond. “I’ll never ask for anything else if you promise to give me two things right now—a short engagement and a long marriage.”
“What the hell?” Simon bellowed.
Mitch slid the ring onto her finger and pressed his lips against the ridge of her knuckles, breathing in the sweet vanilla scent of her skin. Memories of all that she’d done for him scattered across his mind like autumn leaves blowing across a yard. She was the only one who ever listened to what he wanted. She was the only one who spoke to him after his temper ripped everything apart. She was the only one who understood his sacrifices, his wants, his needs.
She was the only one.
He looked up at her sweet pixie face, gazing into eyes dark as the coffee he needed every morning. “Blake Glassware needs me, but I need you more. I’ll go wherever you are, Jaye. Being with you is more important than anything else.” Clasping her hands in his, he rose so they were on equal footing, eye to eye. “You’re the only thing that matters. Will you marry me?”
Her mouth parted, sucking in a soft gasp.
“She won’t go near you after I’m done running a background check on you, Blake.” Simon took a threatening step forward. “My detectives will uncover every blotch on your criminal record.”
“Jaye already knows about my life of crime. Hell, she knows every flaw I possess.” Hopefully, his good qualities outweighed the bad. Mitch leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “D’you consider streaking across the academic quad a felony?”
A tiny crease no bigger than a thumbnail curved near the corner of her mouth.
God, it was a grin. Small. Perfect. His.
He felt his own mouth explode into a smile.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cecelia place her fingertips on her husband’s arm, the subtle action a blatant plea. “Simon, let them be.”
He jerked away from her touch, targeting Mitch with a lethal glare. “I’ll dissect your credit rating and find every debt you owe.”
“You won’t find any. I bought my house in cash. I went to college on scholarship and don’t owe a dime. The only debt I owe is to Jaye for making my life a helluva lot better than it ever was without her.” Mitch looked at her father and spoke in an even, forthright tone. “I don’t want your money. I’ll sign whatever document you need to prove it. All I want is your daughter.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Stop. No more. Just stop.” Jaye strode into the adjoining kitchen, plucked her keys off the granite countertop, and sought Mitch’s gaze. “Let’s finish this in the foyer.”
“Fine.” Not knowing what the hell she meant by finish this, he followed the bright yellow hue of her running jacket. Lengthening his stride, he caught up with her near the winding staircase and nearly ran into something the size of a suitcase. He took a second look and realized it was her suitcase.
Shit. Was she leaving for California tonight?
“Promise me you’ll leave right now. Don’t stay. Don’t talk to
